Wrena's Husband
by kkolmakov
Summary: If you're enjoying the angst in "Thorin's Wife," this story is for you. It's the same kkolmakov's specialty poison, but everything is the opposite. Thorin lives through BotFA, and marries, but whom does the heart of his wife, Lady Wrena belong to?
1. Thorin

**Tomorrow is my birthday, and for the first time in my life I'm not a happy, giddy ball of sunshine on this day :) So, read at your own discretion ;)**

 **It's going to be a three-part fic (most likely :P I don't trust myself after all these years of one-shots turning into fifty chapter fics :D)**

 **The idea was born out of a conversation with my dear friend and reader citadela; and the 'joke' is that if you're enjoying the angst in my story _Thorin's Wife_ , it's the same angst, but everything is the opposite :D**

 **Toodle-oo!**

 **Katya Kolmakov**

* * *

When Thorin met Wrena, daughter of Lir, only two years passed since Erebor had been reclaimed. The war wounds were healing; the Mountain was bustling with activity. New families were arriving; forges worked day and night; trade was growing stronger with each day, with the cities of Men and the Halls of the Elvenking.

Despite his mature age, Thorin was advised - or more precisely, carefully suggested - to take a wife. Dis threw hints; Balin led long and vague conversations with him, about bloodlines, and the 'bright future of the Durin's line.' Thorin would chuckle and shake his head.

And yet, once his wounds after the Battle stopped bothering him at night, he started catching his own thoughts straying to how cold and wide his bed was; and to how - despite the two hundred years behind him - he still felt virile; and how his victory and having Erebor walls around him seemed to have given him a new hunger for life.

Spring came to Erebor; and he pretended he didn't notice how many feasts were held in the Mountain; and how many maidens and widows were invited to them. He even remained purposefully oblivious to all the tailors and braidmasters Dis was sending his way - and he benevolently allowed them to do their work before the revels.

* * *

That evening he was in especially high spirits; and lots of mead was drunk. Bofur and Bombur were present; memories of the Quest were shared; and they talked and laughed. Bombur's wife was expecting their second child; and the day for Bofur's wedding had been chosen. Thorin felt some sort of light envy, without jealousy or malice - and some sort of mischief came over him. He knew they all expected him to sit in the head of the table, regally and gloomily; and instead he decided he would dance with every single woman in the hall. During his fourth dance, he caught Dis astonished eyes on himself. By the sixth, his kin were whispering among themselves. By the tenth, he could hardly hold back laughter.

And then a small hand lay in his - and he met slanted eyes of the colour of fire opal.

"Lady Wrena, daughter of Lir," she introduced herself, and smiled to him widely. There was no flirtiness, or that annoying artfulness many other had laced in their voices and the flutter of their lashes; and he smiled back. She was short, even for a Longbeard; red-haired, and somewhat unattractive. At least, such she would seem to many, he thought - but not to him.

She had an angular face, and her mouth was wide. She seemed constantly eager to laugh. And when she did - despite how clumsy the only jest he could remember was - she wrinkled her nose, and her eyes shone.

He didn't dance with anyone after that. Somewhat awkwardly, cursing his lack of finesse, he led her to the side, to a table with drinks; and they conversed. She was an apprentice of a healer; and he enjoyed her sober mind and her lively manners. She was passionate about her craft; wise beyond her age; curious; and he couldn't tear his eyes off her face. A smile seemed to always hide in her eyes, and the curled up corners of her lips. The lips were red without a rouge - and he wondered what they tasted like; and how the copper strands would feel when running through his fingers.

* * *

The next day he found Balin in the library. The Dwarf was bending over the maps; but once Thorin sat in front of him, the old swindler as if by accident pushed a volume of clan registries towards Thorin. The same had been happening for moons; and Thorin smirked.

"So..." he drew out, and tapped his finger on the cover. "That fur merchant, Lir, son of Lori, with two daughters..."

Balin slowly lifted his face, trying to hide his eagerness.

"Aye. Lady Dania and Lady Wrena. Good family, old; only thrice removed from Dain; and the daughters are well-brought up. Many sons for many generations as well." Balin nodded towards the volume. Thorin hummed nonchalantly. Balin held a pause, but then clearly couldn't help himself. "She's a beauty, that's for sure. They say there had been three duels over her by now. One lad almost lost an arm."

"Lady Wrena?" Thorin asked innocently, well aware of the answer.

"What? Lady Dania, of course. The older one, blonde one, the bookkeeper. Skin like snow." Thorin hummed again, enjoying the ridiculous mix-up more than an adult Dwarf should be. The silver laughter of the red-haired woman from the night before seemed to bounce in his head - and he wasn't going to give up this mood of his. "Laddie, are you confusing the sisters? Wrena is the younger one; the small redhead. Dania is the blonde one; with rosy cheeks, and blue eyes. There was a kerfuffle over her last night! Even though it's quite clear what they all arrive at Erebor for, men still can't help it around her."

"Oh?" Thorin lifted his eyebrows. "I haven't noticed her." He shrugged, and got up. "Look into the family for me, would you?"

Balin was gawking at him, clearly wondering if it were a jest.

"And of course," Thorin added in an offhanded tone, "We need to make sure that Lady Wrena isn't spoken for." He then turned around and left the library, whistling.

* * *

Matchmakers sent to her father returned with favourable news. Thorin then visited the family's hall with his sister and Balin in tow. Everything went according to the customs - a short dinner was held; equivocal conversations were led. Thorin would throw her side glances; she predictably had her eyes down to her plate at all times. And then, just as the customs prescribed, everyone slowly left to the drawing room, living Thorin and the maiden behind.

He stepped to her, and she lifted her eyes at him. He expected shyness - and he found it, but there was also impish laughter dancing in the greenish-hazel irises.

"You seem to enjoy to astonish your kin," she drew out; and he grinned to her widely.

"I'm not doing anything unusual," he answered, and she giggled. The sound was surprisingly pleasing.

"I think, my relations had been certain you'd meant the other sister up until the moment you entered the room. They probably half expected you to scream in panic, 'No, I meant the other one!"

Thorin laughed. "Why would I?" he murmured, and stepped closer. "I know what I desire."

Soft blush spilled on her cheekbones, and coloured small round ears. Her eyes roamed his face, as if to test his truthfulness; and he smiled to her again.

"Well, then..." she started, and then shook her head - and stepped closer.

Her small hand lay on his chest; and he dove in, and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was hundreds times sweeter and more intoxicating than he had expected, than he'd dreamt. She gasped into the kiss a few instants later - his behaviour was indedent. He was cupping her jaw, with both hands; and enjoying her lips without restraint. And then he pushed his right hand, in the locks at the back of her head; ruining the hairdo; and she jerked in his hands.

He let her go, remembering himself; embarrassed by his own fervour - and she suddenly moved into him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She had to stand on her toes to reach; and he found it endearing. This time they only stopped because her aunt pointedly was coughing behind the door and rattling the door handle before coming in. The woman gave them an amused look - they both were obviously disheveled; and he didn't know about himself, but Wrena's lips were even redder and obviously swollen.

* * *

A week before the final negotiations were to be held between two sides of the matchmakers, Dis came to his study. She looked uneasy and sat down in an awkward jerky movement.

"What is it, namad?" Thorin asked, tearing his eyes off a letter he'd been struggling with for the past hour.

"Thorin, allow me to speak openly. And… please, rein your temper."

Thorin looked at her over his reading glasses.

"I can make no promises," he jested, but she didn't smile back. He immediately felt irked. "Speak up, namad. Time is more dear than mithril."

"It is about your betrothal… About Lady Wrena."

"What about her?" Thorin put aside his quill.

"I never wish to place any judgement, Thorin. And it is, after all, your decision, and your choice… But..." Thorin opened his mouth to rebuke her for even considering to speak about this, but Dis rushed ahead. "She's too young, Thorin! She's hardly older than Fili!"

Thorin stared at her. He couldn't quite believe her insolence and her meddling! For a few moments he didn't know where to start his answer to her. And then she spoke again, leaving him completely speechless this time.

"Thorin, she will not make a good wife for you! Look at the differences between you… And she's an Iron Hills born. She'd never seen Erebor before coming here… And she is too young..."

Dis muttered and muttered; and Thorin slammed his hand into the desk. Dis jerked in her chair.

"Dis..." He was feeling so furious that his voice was nothing but a coarse rasp.

And then his sister's burning eyes peered in his, and he saw her face twist in an anguished grimace. "She loves another!" Dis cried out; and Thorin froze with his mouth half-open. "Mahal help me, I wish I didn't have to tell you this! But her heart isn't free! There have been rumours..."

Thorin closed his mouth, and glared at his sister. She frowned and pursed her lips, shaking her head mournfully.

"Thorin, I hate idle gossip just as the next Dwarf. And it's not like I asked around. It was just a random conversation, with a mutual acquaintance. And it's not well-known; she's young, and the story didn't go far…" Dis sighed. "He married another. There was no scandal; but… That was why her family didn't expect her to marry, not just because of her unattractiveness."

Thorin took a measured breath in.

"She agreed to marry me, Dis. We spoke, and she could have refused me."

"Why would she?" Dis exclaimed. "You're the King!"

"She would not be dishonest," Thorin answered with conviction.

He was certain; he hadn't sensed any deceit - or any doubt - in Wrena. They had spent many hours together, since that first kiss in her family's halls. They took walks; they talked; they kissed. She seemed like an open book - a book he couldn't wait to study from cover to cover. Everything about her excited him - and her openness and guilelessness among other things. She was kindred, direct, affectionate.

He was in love.

"Thorin..."

"This conversation is over, Dis," Thorin gritted through his teeth. "And we'll both forget your poisonous words; and you will never - do you hear me? - never show my wife a shadow of disrespect."

Under his heavy dark glare, Dis nodded, slowly rose, and left his study.

* * *

Next time he saw Wrena, doubt was still lurking in the corners of his mind - but it dissipated like a smoke ring just a few minutes into their meeting. She had a book on the history of Erebor with her, and she asked questions and pointed at the schematics; and he couldn't tear his eyes off her. What if, he thought, what if Dis had been right? What if the small fingers dancing on the page had touched another? What if the red lips, sweet and warm, had been offered and given to another, willingly? What if... And then she suddenly tapped the tip of his nose with her finger.

"You aren't listening to me, my lord." Laughter shook her voice. "Are the talks of plumbing boring you?"

He stared at her for a few seconds; and to his own astonishment, he decided he'd just ask.

"Do you wish to marry me, Wrena?"

She tilted her head, in a strange bird like gesture, and then smiled to him softly.

"Aye, I do."

The answer was simple; and he studied her eyes. She then put the book aside and leaned in and kissed his tenderly. He immediately forgot all his preposterous worries - and after all, what sort of idiocy it was, to listen to his sister, and to some thrice repeated gossip! The woman in his arms arched into him; he could feel her strong dry hand on his nape. And then she exhaled and moved away, and their eyes met.

"Do you wish to marry me?" she asked, and he nodded. His head felt pleasantly empty. "What a fortunate coincidence," she sing-songed; and they both laughed.

* * *

Thorin's marital bliss lasted thirty eight moons. They wed; and she came to his halls. The thirteen months of the traditional celebration of a new marriage - that maudlin period when nothing else seemed to matter to the newlyweds - flashed by; and yet, his excitement, and infatuation, and tenderness, and passion didn't ebb, or even lessen. He still felt a burst of happiness each morning waking up with her; and a passing touch, or a glance through the day made him smile.

She made a fair queen. She quickly busied herself with state matters; in her usual sober manner. He appreciated her sound judgement; inquisitive, but never intrusive. On many occasions, he heard the Elders praising her respectfulness, and reverence towards the older and more knowledgeable Dwarves. She took charge of the infirmary; and the housekeeping; but he could see that Dis wasn't set aside in her duties; and he thought with a vindictive amusement that clearly now Dis was prepared to take back any ill words towards Wrena. The women became obvious friends. Thorin's home was peaceful and merry.

And just six moons after the wedding, in their bedchamber, which they shared, unlike many other Dwarven couples, Wrena tenderly wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear. His heart soared at the news; and he moved away and searched her face.

"A babe?" he whispered; and she nodded, her eyes brilliant, tears in them; and he pulled her in, and laughed, feeling his eyes prickle as well.

Thror was a healthy, robust infant; quickly growing into a strong tot, with Thorin's dark locks and blue eyes. Thorin felt proud and joyous, making sure to always find several hours a day to spend with his son.

Through the first two moons after the birth, he couldn't help but laugh at his own suffering - by then he'd fully accepted that his well-being and his mood were utterly dependent on Wrena's presence and the pleasures of bedding her. For the time she'd stayed in their son's nursery; and he would gripe in jest; and she'd laugh and pretend to be taken aback.

The first night after her return, she jumped at him even before he took off his tunic, and they fell into sheets, laughing, and grabbing, and kissing. She fell asleep first; and he lay on his side, lightly running his palm on the silky skin of her back, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his lips - and feeling no shame or embarrassment at such mawkishness.

* * *

The blow was as unexpected as it was devastating. Later, he couldn't even remember what he was doing that morning. There were some matters to attend; something to do with the trade with Esgaroth - but otherwise, his memory would fail him. Everything was hazy, up until that moment when his secretary entered his study and placed the list of names of visitors expecting him in the Audience Hall.

He picked up a letter he had trouble finishing all morning - and later he wouldn't remember whom it was from and what it concerned - and he walked through the passages. He was turning around the corner, when Dis called to him. He threw her a quick absentminded look; and she seemed to say something distressed to him; and he beckoned her to follow him into the hall. He thought he'd listen to her while he was sitting down at his usual desk; and he pushed the door open; Dis rushed after him in an uncharacteristic fretty manner - and he entered and threw the look over the room.

Wrena stood in the corner, in the company of one Dwarf. He was tall, about Wrena's age; dark haired. Thorin realized something was wrong right away. Wrena seemed to be wincing away from the man, while he had his hand wrapped around her forearm. It wasn't just their bodies, in such a strange intimate position, that made Thorin stop in his tracks - it was Dis' gasp behind him as well.

Wrens pulled her arm out of the man's grasp, twisting out of it - and saw Thorin. He could see how pale and panicked her face was; and then she rushed to the second door to the hall. Her small frame, the dark red dress, the copper waves of hair - she dashed to the door, like a bright bird; and Thorin looked at the man.

"Lord Amri of the Iron Hills," a courtier near Thorin introduced the man; and the latter stepped ahead. His companions, previously standing by the way, purposefully pretending to be busy with their papers, stepped forward as well. They were Lord Amri's kin; but he was obviously in charge. He recovered his composure during the time it took him to cross the room and approach Thorin - and by the time he bent in a respectful bow, Thorin wouldn't have thought anything out of the ordinary had transpired - hadn't he seen with his own eyes the scene between the Dwarf and Thorin's wife.

The matters Lord Amri came to discuss were ordinary; as was the conversation; and the result of it. Permissions he was after were given to him. Thorin led the conversation without listening - watching the man instead.

Lord Amri was confident, well-prepared, and exceptionally clever. He had dark brown eyes, intelligent, with some sort of impudence and humour hiding in them - the kind women found attractive, and insecure men hated.

Thorin was informed that Lord Amri was planning to stay in Erebor for three seasons, with his wife and her family's trading company. His kin were warriors, residing in Iron Hills. Nothing was said of Lord Amri's previous connection - or even acquaintance - with the queen.

Once Thorin signed all necessary permits, he dismissed the man and his companions. Dis, who'd been sitting through the conversation in Wrena's usual chair, remained silent and tense until the door closed behind the visitors.

Thorin found his voice only after a few long excruciating minutes.

"Is this the man?" he asked; and looked at his sister. She nodded. Clearly, his questions hadn't required clarification.

Thorin jumped to his feet, and rushed out in search of his wife.

* * *

She was in the nursery. Her voluminous skirts pooling around her, she was sitting on the floor, near Thror. He was banging a wooden block to another; she didn't seem to notice anything around her.

Thorin suddenly didn't know what to say, or what to ask.

"Wrena..." She lifted her eyes at him. They were glassy and red-rimmed. "What is going on?" he asked, and she blinked and focused her attention on him.

"Nothing… What do you mean?" she muttered.

"I saw you with Lord Amri, before the audience. Is something wrong?"

Her lips twisted in a distraught grimace. "No, no, nothing is… We knew each other as children, in the Iron Hills. We just… spoke of mutual acquaintances." She apparently was a poor liar. He'd never before had a chance to find out.

She rose, unstable on her feet.

"Do you mind staying with Thror, for a moment? I'll go call the maid." She quickly walked to the door, without waiting for his answer.

* * *

The following two moons Thorin's suspicions grew, and with them, the dark rage enveloped his heart more and more fully. Each day Wrena seemed paler, and more and more forlorn. Each day more and more often she would disappear somewhere, without anyone knowing where she was. First, it was an hour in the middle of the day, when he would come to ask her to share his meal - and she wouldn't be in her study. Then, she started missing dinners. When asked she'd come up with clumsy explanations. With time they became smoother and easier to believe - he assumed whomever she was meeting during those hours was now helping her to come up with excuses.

It was the day when she said she was spending the night in Dale, with her ladies-in-waiting, when something snapped in Thorin.

He wished he could have blamed his following actions on some mad outburst of his infamous temper - but he had no habit of lying to himself. The fury and the ache he was feelings were white, cold, and calculative.

After dark, he went into a small workshop, set up for his son, for the time when the boy could hold something heavier than a rattle in his hands. The room was a gift from Oin and Gloin, decorated and fully equipped. Thorin took a small set of picks and needles, and went to Wrena's study. He knew the door would be locked - and he also knew how to pick a lock.

He went through the papers on the shelf by the window, and through the drawers of her desk. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary - but again, she wouldn't keep letters from her lover in plain view, would she? He took out every book from a shelf, and flipped through every page. He knew she had a small safe box - after all, he'd given it to her himself, as a warming gift when she was settling up in the study.

It was smartly hidden behind a stone panel, low by the floor, in the wall of the wood stove. He was prepared again; he'd brought the spare keys, which she'd given to him for safekeeping. The password, which one was to enter in Old Khuzdul runes on the wheel on the lid, confused him for a moment. It was too long for any of their names, but the combination of two names didn't match either. And then he knew. The runes of the words 'azghzars' and 'markh' - 'oak' and 'shield' - clicked into grooves, and the lock sprung open.

There were no letters inside. He saw gems, state papers, contacts, and bonds - and a small silver case with a portrait. The younger, soft featured face of Lord Amri was intricately etched of a silver plate inside.

He now knew why Dwarves in his position were called heartbroken. It indeed felt as if something shattered in his chest.

He put all her belongings back, exactly where they had been - vigilance and tense attention to details had saved his life on the road and in a fight so many times before. And then he walked back into their bedchamber, sat down on their bed - made of a giant tree stump of a single ancient oak - and he dropped his face into his open palms.


	2. Wrena and Thorin

**This update is short. I was going to finish the story in two chapters, making the second one the same length as the first one, but I want to post this scene alone, to hear your opinions, my lovelies. So, let me know what you think in reviews.**

* * *

The next morning, during the family meal, he watched Wrena. She was wan and clearly had spent a sleepless night. He invited her to his study, under some unconvincing excuse.

She entered and sat down in front of his desk. He saw how much her hands - folded on her lap - shook. Thorin had had a sleepless night as well; and his skin burnt; and his head swam.

He took a deep breath in, and spoke slowly, "Tell me the truth, Wrena. What is going on?" She kept her eyes lowered.

"Nothing is going on." Her words were but a whisper.

"I didn't know that in the years we'd spent together I'd shown myself an imbecile." She jerked at his venomous tone. "Are you having an affair with Lord Amri?"

At that she jerked her face up, and he saw panicked widened eyes.

"No, Thorin, I would never..."

"What then?" he asked, believing none of her words. "You are avoiding me. You escape our marital bed. You sleep in your study whenever opportunity presents itself. You don't... touch me." Previously, their desires had always been wonderfully reciprocal; either one of them would initial a touch, or a kiss; and another would gladly reach back. Thorin knew he was incompetent in deciphering and understanding emotions - but one needed to be blind and half-witted not to notice the changes in her behaviour behind the closed doors of their bedchambers.

She remained silent, her copper head lowered; and rage boiled in his veins.

"What had happened between the two of you?" he gritted through his teeth.

She took a shuddered breath, and tangled the fingers of her small strong hands. "We were friends when we were children. Nothing… Nothing ever happened between us."

"Wrena, I'm losing my patience." Thorin's fists clenched on the unpleasantly cold surface of his escritoire. "If I hear another word of your lies, the consequences will be dire."

Her throat bobbed in a distressed gesture.

"I was infatuated with him, when… when we were young. He didn't return my feelings. He married another." Her voice broke. "It matters not, not anymore..."

"And what is happening between the two of you now?"

"Nothing," she whispered again.

Thorin slammed his palm into the desk, jumping to his feet, and his words burst out in an enraged scream, "Stop lying to me!"

She winced away, and he saw her whole body quake. She didn't lift her eyes.

"Wrena, you're my wife! You gave the oath to be loyal and faithful. I will not stand any lies in my marriage!"

"I am faithful and loyal," she whispered.

"Then tell me the truth! Loyalty isn't just about never giving oneself to another in body and heart. It is about honesty!" he roared, and leaned ahead. "Are you being honest, Wrena?"

He felt his heart bang twice into his rib cage before she hid her face into her hands - and shook her head.

Pain slashed across his side, somewhere below the heart; and he just couldn't take a breath in.

She sobbed quietly, and then looked up at him. He saw wet eyes, and shaking lips. "The secret isn't mine, Thorin… Please… But I have never been unfaithful to you."

"Has your heart?" he asked; and tears ran down her pale cheeks.

"One can't choose, Thorin… It's sometimes beyond our control..." There was a begging note in her whimpers; and he narrowed his eyes at her. Something akin hatred was waking up in him. "I loved Amri, but it was nothing but an infatuation of a youngling..."

"And after we wed?"

"I gave my word!" she exclaimed; for an instant her voice grew firmer. "When you asked… When I accepted your proposal…" She pressed her hands to her chest, and gave him a pleading look. "Thorin, I agreed to belong to you, and to accept you - fully!"

"Then tell me what's going on," he barked at her. "Half the truth is just a lie."

"No, it's not." She exhaled through rounded lips, obviously gathering her thoughts. "Half the truth is exactly that - true. It's just incomplete."

Her sudden sophisms made him see red. He pushed the chair back, and rushed around the desk. He'd never in his life thought he could feel that much rage towards her, or any of his kin for that matter! For a second he even doubted whether he'd be able to hold back the violent urge flooding his body.

He pressed his hands into the armrests of her chair; and she shrank with a small fearful sound.

"Enough of this palaver! You're lying to me; and if you want to… be my wife, you will admit it this very moment!" Her face - just a palm length away from his - was almost hidden from him behind a wall of some nauseating mist. "Start talking! And no more fibbing! I don't believe for a second nothing is happening between you and that kâmnul!" _Filth._

"Do you have no trust for me?" she asked, her face disbelieving. "Thorin, do you..."

"No! You lied to me once, you get no trust! You have his portrait in your study! You say you leave to Dale to marker, and he's seen leaving Erebor as well!" He was screaming in her face. She was shaking, her back pressed in the back of the chair. "Yes, you can laugh now! I'm spying on my own wife! That's what I get for marrying a woman who could have been my daughter! An old fool!"

He jerked back from the chair, and his hip slammed into the corner of the desk. Pain bloomed in the old wounds; and he spat a dirty swearing.

She was crying again, silently - some sort of astonishment written on her face.

"Get out," he hissed, and turned away from her. "Get out. You aren't my wife anymore. Sleep in your study as much as you want."

He felt suddenly sick; everything shook inside; and he leaned onto the desk, his hand splayed on it.

He heard her rise slowly; the skirts rustled; and the the door closed behind her.

 _ **To be continued...**_


	3. Wrena

**Author's Note:**

 **OK, it's time to admit, it's not a two-chapter fic, Toto :D But it seems that the next chapter is the last one. Maybe :)**

* * *

Two more months dragged by. On the surface their behaviour towards each other remained the same. They were civil with each other during meals; they held audiences together. The only change was that Thorin made sure to never stay alone with her. And he would now sleep alone.

He'd never known that he could feel that pained; he could never imagine that his mind, his heart, every fibre of his being could tear and bleed in such suffering.

Night were the worst. During the days, he would sometimes forget the state of his marriage, of his life, distracted for at least an instant by the everyday matters - but then the agony would be back. It was like the ache of old wounds, ever present, unmollifiable, draining him. He would meet a dawn, his eyes burning after the sleepless hours; and he would dread returning to the bed chamber.

He never looked at her. He couldn't.

He heard others comment on how sick and exhausted she looked; and she missed even more meals now. As if a giant shadow lay over the Royal Halls.

* * *

She came to see him once, outside their duties. A week after their altercation, she knocked at the door of his study. Her eyes were red, and the lips were chipped and pale, with blood dried in the cracks. She looked broken; and despite the rage and the almost hatred he felt towards her, he felt pity flood him; and he had to grab to the edge of the table, not to get up and to rush to her.

She didn't sit. The fingers tangled and untangled, hands clasped in front of her chest; and she gave him a pleading look.

"What do you want?" he asked unnecessarily loudly, to drown the anguish and the longing he felt.

"Thorin… I came to… beg you to reconsider..." Her voice was breaking; and he could see her swallow spasmodically. "I know you feel I have betrayed you, but I have never… been unfaithful to you..."

"You have betrayed me. You're lying to me." He looked away, not to see her small frame trembling.

"But… Not as a husband… I have never… never with another man..." Jumbled words fell off her lips, between small sobs. His hands started to shake.

"Then tell me what is happening." He wanted to believe her.

"I can't..." She wiped a tear running down her cheek. "I gave my word."

"To whom?" He prayed to Mahal that the answer he expected wouldn't come. She sobbed again, and seemed to beg her with her eyes not to press.

A second after, she dropped her head, and whispered, "To Amri..."

Thorin decided there wasn't much to lose anymore. His marriage lay in ruins - and so did his life.

"Tell me of his portrait in your safe box," he said in a low growl; and she flinched.

"Thorin..."

"You wanted to talk. Then talk." Perhaps, if he just heard her admit it, tell him her heart wasn't his, he could finally sleep.

She took a shuddered breath in. "He gave it to me when we were young. He pitied me… I was a plain, silly girl… And my sister told him how… how infatuated I was." She spoke in dull, hollow voice, and more tears ran down her cheeks. "He just… never thought me… alluring..."

"I'm sure now you're a worthy prize," Thorin jeered. "A Queen, and an efficacious healer and a diplomat." She seemed to have shrunk even more from his cruel words.

"Nothing has changed," she exclaimed, and gave him a mournful look. "He loves his wife..."

"Oh, so you haven't achieved your goals. That is why you want me to take you back. Your lover didn't accept your advances."

"Don't be cruel..." she whispered; and he decided if she didn't leave, he would either strike her, or start weeping himself.

"Leave, Wrena. We have nothing to talk about."

She gave him a long look, and then nodded. "Aye, I see it now, we do not."

The door closed behind her; and he hurled an ink bottle into the wall. The black liquid splashed, drops flying onto his face; and he wiped it, his fingers trembling, mixing the black with his tears.

* * *

After the conversation in his study she seemed to have turned a new page. Quite quickly he noticed that she became once again talkative at dinners - never addressing him, of course. Her laughter could be heard in Thror's rooms. She seemed to be recovering physically. Her appetite was back. He assumed she'd now decided to throw all her strength into winning her lover over.

Thorin didn't want to look; but couldn't help but watch.

He wondered if it was some sort of mental affliction that made him torturously aware of how beautiful she was - seemingly more and more every day. Her glowing pale skin; the soft golden locks; the small strong body - all familiar and so very captivating - tormented him. The sweet smells of her soap in their shared bathchambers; the traces of her presence all over the halls; her official portraits on the walls - as if followed him everywhere.

He saw Lord Amri on one more occasion. The Dwarf came with some more permits for approval; and Thorin thought he saw mockery and triumph in the younger Dwarf's eyes. He signed the papers without reading; and threw him to Amri over the table. Wren was absent from the audiences that day, and Thorin doubted it was a coincidence.

That night Thorin lay in his bed; and dark thoughts swirled in his mind. He could kill the man. He could challenge him to a fight. It would be scandalous, and shocking; but maybe if he sank his sword into Lord Amri's chest, he would see some relief. Also, if the man died, Wrena would feel what he felt - as if the world crumbled around him; as if all his life was nothing but rot and crud.

It was his own fault, he thought. He had been an imbecile. He married a woman twice as young; and he placed all possible importance on his marriage. He had been enjoying this second youth - carelessly, trustfully. He'd been all about duty and his people for two hundred years - and then like a half-witted youngling, he threw himself into this giddy, idiotic elation. He trusted a deceitful, dishonourable harlot - and was now paying for it.

How could he have been so blind? Her smiles, her laughter, the warmth and the comfort she provided him - all that was false. She'd been playing her part. Dis had been right. Wrena hadn't refused him because of his gold, his stature, his crown. And the whispers of love, and the moans of pleasure had all been just the goods she'd exchanged for the payment he'd been giving. She had been thinking of her lover, probably, every time Thorin touched her. She was fortunate; there were similarities in looks - the height, the dark hair. No wonder she'd pretended so well. Although how hard could it have been to deceive Thorin? He'd gulped all her lies willingly and readily.

* * *

Another moon later he seemed to start recovering. It became easier to get up in the morning, his mind busy with the state matters. They saw each other so little that he could almost pretend to have forgotten what she looked like. She was crafty enough to never cross paths with him in Thror's rooms.

It was only on the day and the night of the Summer Fest when he was reminded of his pain. She was stunning, in a dark green dress; her locks of the coppered gold in a simple and elegant do. She danced - and he couldn't tear his eyes off her. She moved with a grace, with fluidity, and confidence - and lustful desire and the memories of her near him ran through his body in shivers. She laughed - and he couldn't stop looking at the long delicate neck, and the throat, when she dropped her head back. He remembered pressing his lips to the skin and the pulse beating underneath. She gave her hand to a Dwarf inviting her for another dance - and he remembered tangling his fingers with her, pressing her hands into sheets, when she arched underneath him. How could that have been a lie, he thought, suddenly feeling lost. He wasn't even angry at that moment; he just couldn't believe that her arms around his neck, her eyes widened and burning in front of him, her lips half-opened, a smile hiding in the corners; and her legs tight around his waist, pulling him closer, as if never close enough - that it had never been true.

In the flickering light of hundreds of candles, he saw her skin - the smoothest creamiest silk - and her locks - burning around her radiant, joyous face; and he drank too much; and spoke little; and then he left the celebration early, unconcerned with decorum. He went back to the bedchamber; and drank himself to sleep.

And then the life returned to its routine, summer and trade blooming; letters piling up on his desk; visitors queuing in his halls. He threw himself into his obligations; and the wounds started to heal.

* * *

He was in his study, finishing a contract draft; when a courtier announced that Lord Amri of the Iron Hills was requesting an urgent private audience with him.

Lord Amri looked peculiar. He wore a dusty travel cloak; seemed to be favouring his right side; and had an obvious limp. Altogether he looked battered and thinned from exhaustion. Thorin quickly wondered that some other husband had been somewhat more enthusiastic in reacting to Lord Amri's treatment of the sacred nature of Dwarven marriage.

The Dwarf bowed awkwardly, and heavily sat down in the armchair, without waiting for an invitation. Thorin lifted one eyebrow at the insolence.

"My lord, I have come to… confess a crime, and beg your leniency." Thorin wondered if grabbing the man's hair at the back of his head and banging him face down into the desk would be considered leniency. Sadly, the man was clearly wounded; and Thorin would hate to have an unfair advantage in a fight.

"Eight moons ago my brother and the company of his warrior, numbered forty two, have been captured by the Goblins of the Misty Mountain. I was let know that they weren't killed, but held captive; and a ransom was to be paid for them." The man's voice was even and tired.

"As are the traditions of the Khazad, my family refused to negotiate with captors." The Dwarf gave Thorin a weary yet direct look. "I couldn't let my brother and his men die. I agreed to gather the gold and to bring it to the Mountains. By the time I came to Erebor, I had grown desperate. I couldn't find the funds, or men to go with me to free my kin. Lady Wrena… supported me. We kept it a secret, so that we weren't stopped."

Amri shifted in the chair with a cringe. "Last moon my company reached the Mountain, and we… slayed many Goblins and freed our men. We'd lost most of the gold, but only three men in the original company; and two out of the ones who came with me." He then shook his head, and pressed his lips firmly. "I know my crime. Dwarves do not negotiate… but I do not regret it. I will accept my punishment, but I came to beg forgiveness for the Queen."

"Why did she help you?" Thorin asked.

"She refused me at the beginning," Amri rushed to answer. "But… I promised her I would return the men. My skill as a warrior is well-known, my lord." A shadow of the self-assured man Thorin thought him to be ran across the Dwarf's face. "It took a lot of convincing, but portraits of the men's children broke her resistance."

The Dwarf smirked joylessly and continued, "The men I brought back are in Dale; and tomorrow all Erebor will know of what happened. I will go to trial for conspiracy and for losing the gold. I came to beg you to spare the Queen's good name. Very few know of her participation; and they will not talk. No one has to know..." The eyes of the two men met. "No one was supposed to know."

Thorin leaned back in his chair, and gave the Dwarf a measuring look up and down.

"You mean, _I_ was not supposed to know."

"It took longer to gather the gold and those willing to go than I had anticipated. The Queen wasn't supposed to be lying and sneaking around for moons... and then it was too late to renegade."

Thorin's mind worked quickly - piecing the new knowledge, fitting the puzzle, his memories gaining a completely new meaning.

"You will lose everything tomorrow, Amri of the Iron Hills," he started slowly; and the man in front of him nodded. "Your family trade will be taken to reimburse for the gold you lost. You will lose your permits. And if I don't stop it, the Queen's name will be dragged through the same shame and dishonour. And it's your doing, both of you. You influenced her into it; she agreed."

The man didn't answer, and just watched Thorin's face calmly.

"Have you planned, Lord Amri, for me to conceal your crime to save the Queen's honour?"

"I'm not that cunning," the man answered with a small smile. "And no, I don't expect any leniency to be shown to me. I am only hopeful that the husband of Lady Wrena, daughter of Lir, would do everything to protect her."

"Lady Wrena, daughter of Lir, doesn't have a husband," Thorin answered sharply, his animosity towards the man returning at his careless, condescending words. He saw Amri's face waver, and grow pale. Thorin delighted in the anxious expression on the scoundrel's face; and then continued in a grave tone, "But the reputation of the Queen of Erebor cannot be tarnished. I will look the other way; and you will make sure not a word is spoken about her participation in your scheme."

Fortunately, the younger Dwarf didn't rush to thank, neither did he look smug or pleased. That would have gained him a famous left hook of the King Under the Mountain.

"And now you will tell me everything," Thorin said, and Lord Amri nodded again.

After the conversation with Lord Amri Thorin went to his chamber, stretched on the bed, and closed his eyes. He thought of Wrena, no doubt terrified and worried in her rooms right now. Amri had told him he'd sent her a note before coming to Thorin's study.

Leaving her in the dark, awaiting her fate, knowing that the next day could bring her ruin - would be cruel. Were her transgression known she'd be expected to be punished, perhaps exiled, and definitely separated from her child. The law stated that Dwarves never negotiated ransom for their kin, never met any demands - this way they were never expected to. It protected their people; since very rarely their enemies even risked sending a messenger.

Of course, when one's kin - brother, wife, daughter, son - were abducted, a Dwarf wouldn't stay in their halls, lamenting and taking no action. The matter was considered private; and one had only themselves to rely on. Amri of the Iron Hills had broken the law - and so had Thorin's wife.

The young Dwarf seemed to have been honest in his account of the events of the last eight moons - and nothing had indicated that the relationship between the two of them were anything but two people working towards a common goal. Thorin of course hadn't asked; but he didn't have to.

Amri had let him know - in vague words, but repeatedly and insistently - that Wrena regretted keeping the secret from Thorin; and that she had been tortured by having to betray his trust. That explained her paleness and her anxious state of four moons before. On the other hand, having given her word, she had no means of escaping the scheme she had been pulled into - that much Thorin understood as well.

He shortly wondered whether he was so quick to find excuses and to condone her now - lying in his empty cold bed - because he was simply relieved she hadn't taken a lover. Was he indeed that enamoured with her that he would just forgive her lies and her crimes?

Thorin suddenly felt tired. He rolled on his stomach, and pressed his burning face to the coolness of the sheets.

* * *

A few minutes later, he jerkily climbed off the bed, and left the rooms.

She wasn't in her study; or her parlour; or the bathchambers. He peeked into the small kitchen and the pantries near by - and then he understood.

She was sitting on the floor of Thror's bedroom; near his cot; her face pressed into her knees, arms around her legs. He could see her widened unblinking eyes fixed on the bars of the cot. She didn't seem to hear him come in.

"Wrena..." he called in a whisper, and she twitched and gave him a terrified look. He beckoned her with his hand, and left the room. He waited for her in the parlour; and she took almost ten minutes to appear. He could see she'd just cried; but her eyes were dry now.

"We shall talk in the bedchamber," he said; and once again walked out of the room, without checking if she was following.

He sat on the bed; and she remained standing, having stepped to the wall while he was locking the door behind them.

"Lord Amri had paid me a visit tonight," Thorin said in a low voice, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Now it's your turn to talk."

He heard how she swallow with difficulty - and then she started talking. He hadn't learnt anything new - except unlike the other Dwarf she didn't ask for understanding; and didn't try to explain herself. Her voice sounded lifeless.

Once she was done, silence hung in the room.

He considered torturing her for longer - but he just felt so taxed.

"You will not be implicated during his trial," he said quietly; and her eyes flew up to his face. "Lord Amri will ensure none of the participants mentions your name; and I will pretend to never have known."

"I will not be sent away?!" she asked before he could finish talking. "Will I be allowed to stay, here, with Thror?"

"Aye," he answered; and she suddenly made a choked noise in her throat, clasped a hand over her mouth - and started sinking to the floor. He jerked, and even lifted his hand to offer her support; but she didn't seem to see.

A loud coarse sob burst out of her; and she covered her face with her hands.

"I will stay… I will stay..." she continued repeated, between her wails - and he got off the bed and walked up to her. She pressed her hands into the floor, and her body quaked in deep weeping.

"Wrena, get up," he grumbled, and trying to pick her up under one arm. She didn't seem to heard him either; and just cried desperately. "Wrena..." He pulled; and she finally moved. She rose on unstable feet; and he gently pushed her towards the bed. She ungracefully slumped on it, and grasped the bedpost to stay upright.

"Wrena..." he started, and suddenly she grabbed his forearm.

"Will I truly be allowed to stay in Erebor?" she asked in some sort of frenzy. He nodded. "Do I have your word?"

"You have my word."

"Do you believe me now? That nothing had happened between Amri and me? Do you believe me?" she continued her manic questioning.

"Aye, but, Wrena..."

"I'm with child," she breathed out, and released his arm. "I'm expecting your child."

Thorin froze, staring at her. The meaning had seemed to reach his understanding only a few moments later.

"A child?"

"I found out three weeks after I had agreed to help him." She tilted her head, in the painfully familiar bird like gesture, her eyes roaming his face. "Thorin..."

"You didn't tell me because you feared I wouldn't believe it was mine." He wasn't asking - and she dropped her eyes. "And if I didn't believe you now, and didn't help you, would you have taken it with you to exile?" She stayed still and silent, but then he saw a small nod.

"You chose to betray me knowing you carried my child. You continued plotting and lurking in my mountain, knowing you had my child under your heart..." he drew out slowly.

"What choice did I have?" she whispered.

"You could have come to me."

"You wouldn't have believed me. Or you would have put an end to it, and all those men were dead now. I did what I thought was right," she said quietly.

"So, generations of the Khazad were wrong, and you and that scoundrel from the Iron Hills are right." He shook his head sarcastically.

She didn't answer; and they say without saying a word for a few minutes.

He sighed. "How are you feeling?" He needed to take care of his child - even if he didn't know what to do with its mother.

"I'm well. The first sickness had passed. So, it's just the ravenous appetite, and those colourful, life like dreams now," she alluded to her first parturiency - the one they had elated and in love, all through; the one they shared.

"We will announce your pregnancy right after Amri's scheme is disclosed. That will distract people's attention from it - and your possible participation even more," he said in a dull tone, and she nodded. "And you will move into Thror's rooms. We'll start setting up a new nursery there. That will explain it." She nodded again. Her breathing was shallow, and she followed him with tense eyes. "Yo ucan go now. Tomorrow you need to look healthy, radiant, and completely unaware of what's happening."

She rose quickly, and rushed to the door. She stopped, her hand already on the handle, and looked at him.

"Thorin..." He didn't look up. "I'm so very sorry..."

He hummed, simply acknowledging that he heard her - and she was gone.

 _ **To be continued...**_

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_**

 **If you want more of me :)**

 **1\. I have two webserials on Wattpad; the name is Katya Kolmakov. Two stories, one angsty, one humorous.**

 **2\. I have an Etsy shop - The King and Wren. There are all sorts of little goodies; and my funky fairy tales with my original illustration for instant download. _Rapunzel_ and _Princess and the Pea_ are up now!**

 **3\. Just follow me on Facebook basically :) Updates posted on my Author Page. Just type /katyakolmakov after the address.**


	4. Her Husband

Between the announcement of the Queen's parturiency and the nature of Lord Amri's crimes, his trial had gained little public disparagement. The older Dwarves shook their heads and grumbled; the younger ones, whose families had moved to Erebor in search of a better life, just as the half of the men he saved, weren't hasty to condemn him and his decisions.

He seemed open and honest at his trial - leaving the Queen's participation out just as it had been discussed, of course. He explained that he had calculated that doing it the Dwarven way - going into the Mountains with a small group of volunteers, having refused the Goblins as the traditions prescribed - would bring no result. He had weighed his options; and had made his decision. The gold he'd managed to collect allowed him to hire many strong and skillful warriors; and his own personal history made him a capable leader for the company. The fact that he was a decorated hero of the Battle of the Five Armies made the jury even more lenient towards him.

Thorin presided at the trial. He spoke little and watched attentively. He would have to lie to himself if he said he wasn't still trying to see what made Wrena participate in the scheme.

Thorin concluded that even if partially it had been Amri's charm, and self-assurance as a fighter, the children and wives of the forty men would have been the crucial argument. The rescuees and the company that had gone to the Mountains hadn't been allowed to come to the trial and give their evidence; but Thorin received letters and visitors, begging for the mildest punishment for the conspirators. Nine of the men had sons of Thror's age.

Amri's wife was present at every hearing. She was an older woman; plain and unattractive. She had two children from her first marriage; tall, blonde younglings. Amri's eyes would stray to them most often; and he would give his wife a comforting smile from time to time. She would nod, and smile back. One needed to be blind not to see the love and support the small family was showing to each other. When asked in trial whether she knew of and scorned her husband's actions, which led to her losing her family's trade, she gave Thorin a calm look, and said that she stood behind everything her husband had done, and only regretted she hadn't had more to give to support his cause.

* * *

Mid-trial Thorin requested Wrena to come to his study. She sat in the chair in front of him, her hands folded on her lap, eyes lowered. She looked healthy and charming, in a soft velvet dress showing her small round stomach.

"It seems you will not be implicated in his crimes," Thorin said slowly. He wasn't sure what he invited her here for. Perhaps, he wanted her to once again assure him that the calamity that had befallen his marriage had been a simply political matter, not of personal nature.

She nodded, and shifted in the chair.

"He will pay the full price for it though. His wife's trade will be taken away; and they will lose the permits. They will have to move back to Iron Hills, and take to some less profitable trade." Another nod followed.

He realised it was her silence and obedience that were making him uneasy. Before the story with Amri, she had been respectful and reasonable, but she'd never been submissive. As young as she was, she'd taken reins of running his home and his Kingdom with a firm hand. She had been making decisions, soberly and assuredly - and if she had had doubts, she never hesitated to come to him for advice. She had been the perfect wife and the perfect Queen.

And then she had agreed to support Amri; and as maddening and hurtful her secret had been, Thorin felt a tinge of respect towards her. She had been wrong in the eyes of the traditions, but just as she'd told him, she had done what she thought was right. Thorin could understand that.

If indeed that was the reasoning behind her involvement in the scheme, wouldn't it mean that their marriage, their love had been untarnished? Thorin felt shame at how quickly he was ready to put her transgression behind, but there was relief in his heart; and as much as he fought it, he was starting to yearn for her anew.

She didn't seem to feel the same. Just as the last few months, she seemed in even good spirits; attending to her duties; spending time with Thror. Thorin felt some sort of an irritated astonishment: she was the one who committed a crime; she was the one banished from her halls; and it was him suffering from insomnia and loneliness and constant anguish! She was happy and striving! As if being on her own, having gotten rid of him, was a blessing!

He dismissed her, without coming up with anything else to say; and she got up, curtseyed, and left. Thorin growled after the door closed behind her, and snapped a quill in his hand.

* * *

Two moons passed after Lord Amri's victorious return; and Thorin found himself in a constant irked and dark mood. The life in the Mountain returned to its prosperous and joyous harmony - except he seemed to be excluded out of it. The Queen was rosy-cheeked, round, and merry, busy with preparations for another child's arrival. Kili had returned from his travels South; and feasts were held to greet him. Fili had chosen a bride; and their courtship had started. Thror started crawling. The Kingdom was flourishing; while the King apparently had grown so disagreeable and moody that people started avoiding him.

He was sitting in his study, aimlessly shuffling papers on his desk; when a soft knock came to his door. He barked the person to come in, hardly feeling like allowing any visitors; and the door opened slowly, and Wrena stuck her head in.

Just as with Thror, she had gained little weight. She was hefty, firm little round stomach protruding under the velvet; still fast on her feet; buoyant and nimble. Thorin glared at her.

"May I come in?" she asked timidly; and he made a grumbly noise and pointed at the chair in front of his desk. She sat down and smoothed out the skirt of her voluminous home dress. There was a flirty buckle, shaped like a bird, under her bust, with little green gems sparkling in it, and she fidgeted with it.

"I came to ask if there is something I could do to… raise your spirits," she said quietly, and he jerked his face up and gawked at her. She gave him a small sad smile. "I know my presence aggravates you, Thorin. You have been noble and honourable, allowing me to stay. I couldn't have asked for more forbearance from you. Being here with Thror is all I could wish for..." Her voice trembled, and she took a quick breath, taking herself under control. "You've shown me tolerance I didn't deserve. But I can't help but see how much it vexes you, to be under the same roof with me. And I… I truly wish to cause you as little bother as possible." She clasped her hands in front of her chest in a begging gesture. "Please, tell me what I could do. I could leave until the baby arrives, perhaps? I could stay in the Iron Hills, with my kin. It will give you a few moons of… peace."

Thorin watched her silently, not certain what he was feeling. That was the first time they had spoken in more than a fortnight.

Her lips trembled, and she dropped her eyes.

"I wish I could do something..." she whispered.

"Do you regret it?" The words burst out of him, as if without his participation. "Would you have done it differently now?"

She looked up. He'd expected a hasty reassuring answer. Perhaps, he wanted her to give it to him - an excuse for both of them to pretend the matter had been resolved; to reconcile now that it was over. Mahal help him, he wanted to reconcile with her!

For the first time in weeks she was close, warm and radiant; her eyes intent on him; concern and affection glowing in them - and damn him, he couldn't find any strength to doubt that affection any more! Something dully ached behind his ribs.

He saw her frown and ponder the question.

"I have asked myself that... many times," she said quietly. "It would have been so easy, to say I was wrong, and repent, and hope one day you would look at me without disdain… But no, I wouldn't have." She shook her head mournfully. "Had I asked for your help, had I come to you in those moons… and Mahal help me, I nearly had hundreds of times… you would have been implicated in it too."

"I would have put a stop to it," Thorin said.

"No, you wouldn't have." She met his eyes and gave him another soft melancholic smile. "Not the Thorin I know and… admire." He saw her eyes fill with tears, and her throat jerked in a spasmodic swallow. "By the time Amri had come to me, the men had been in captivity for two moons, tortured and abused, no doubt - but given a glimpse of hope. Had the ransom been refused right away, they'd have been slayed; and then… we would mourn them, as the Khazad should. But he had already set his scheme afoot. And you would have agreed just as I have. I couldn't let you take this burden upon yourself." She hastily wiped tears off her cheeks. "You're the King Under the Mountain; and nothing is to sully your honour. I couldn't make you face the choice between breaking the law and disgracing yourself; and killing forty men who had been brutalised unnecessarily, and given a false hope for return home."

"So, you let me believe you were engaged in dalliances with Lord Amri," Thorin drew out; and a sudden strange laugh burst out of her. It had no true joy in it; just some sort of a desperate disbelief.

"I had been dim, I have to admit. I hadn't even thought that you would assume infidelity." She gave him an apologetic look. "We kept holding those meetings, with the families of the abducted, searching for the funds… and it was taking longer and longer… And I knew of course you would notice; you're hardly unobservant." She shook her head, with a hollow chuckle. "But I couldn't believe you would think that I would… take a lover. I had no defence prepared for that. I had come up with a few flimsy excuses, some nonsense about covering for some star-crossed lovers..." She gave him another embarrassed smile. "And then you suddenly asked if I had an affair with Amri, and I had nothing to say."

"You had his portrait in your study. And there had been rumours, even before our wedding," Thorin said defensively.

"The portrait…" She tangled and untangled her fingers. "I… I wish I could tell you why I kept it. But I can't. I didn't even remember it was there; I'd just… push it aside when I needed something from the box; and then lock it again, without another thought..." She looked up at him pleadingly. "It doesn't mean anything. Sometimes, people just do silly things." Her mouth twisted; and she sniffled. "It's just a portrait… A forgotten memento of a childish infatuation…"

He looked at her, and couldn't find a shred of stubbornness in himself, the stubbornness that for two moons kept him from coming to her; from telling her he had forgiven her crime; from letting her know he still loved her.

"Where is it now?" he asked, in the last desperate effort to hold on to his anger and to his pride.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped.

"Oh no… It's still there..." Some sort of childish terror coloured her face; and she jumped to her feet. "I'll go now!" she exclaimed, and her hands flew up in a begging gesture. "I'll throw it out right away!"

"Wrena, stop!" he called, rising sharply as well. "What are you even..?"

"I haven't opened the box since then. It's still there!" She looked panicked; and dashed to the door, her heavy skirts whooshing through the air.

"It doesn't matter! Wrena!" he almost shouted. Somehow he felt she wasn't to be allowed to leave now. He took a large step ahead, and slammed the hand into the door, closing it again, jerking the handle out of her fingers.

She looked up at him; her flushed face right in front of him; her chest heaving. There was but a foot of distance between their bodies.

Suddenly her face scrunched in a pained grimace, and she sobbed. She lifted a hand as if to touch him; and swayed. He could imagine how she would press into him - he could remember how her body fit into his, so very vividly - and then she jerked back and covered her face with her hands.

Her heard several desperate sobs; her shoulders shook.

"It's so painful..." she mewled behind her hands. "Seeing you every day… Knowing it will never… That I lost you… That I will never be allowed to touch you again… Pretending to be content..." She stumbled a small step backwards. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry to lose my composure… You don't want to hear this..."

He wrapped his arms around her and jerked her into him, pressing her so tightly that he was probably hurting her. A loud sharp cry burst out of her.

"It's alright... alright..." he muttered. He didn't know what else to say. That he loved her? He never stopped. That he forgave her? There was no use pretending; at some point, gradually and unnoticeably, he had come to the realization that he felt there was nothing to forgive. Once he knew she had been faithful to him as a man, none of her crimes against his people and his crown mattered. It was time to admit that despite his mature age and his life of duty, he was a man and a lover first; and the King only second.

She was still and quiet in his embrace; and he stroked the silky hair at the back of her head.

"I want you back, Wrena. I want you to come back." It was surprisingly easy to say. He took a sharp breath in, air rushing into his chest, as if for the first time in moons without an obstacle.

She looked up, giant brilliant eyes were full of tears.

"You do?" she asked in a small voice. Thorin nodded, unsure of his voice. Her face broke in a beaming smile. "Truly?" He felt some sort of ridiculous laugh bubble in him. She looked so endearingly hopeful. He nodded again. "Now?" He felt a smile to tug at his lips as well. "Right away?" she asked; and he decided she'd probably come up with another dozen questions before she decided to believe him - so he just leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

She made a loud surprised noise; and then hopped, and wrapped her arms around his neck; twisting it almost painfully. She hung on him; and her stomach pressed into him. He bent, putting her small feet on the ground; and she clawed at his shoulders, and pulled at the handfuls of his doublet she was clutching.

"Oh Thorin… Please… Please…" she muttered, and pulled some more; and he realised she was trying to lead him out of the room. Judging by her immediate attempts to unbutton his doublet as well, he assumed she was trying to head to the bedchambers; and he guffawed.

He felt drunk, light, happy...

She pushed him, his back slammed into the wall, near the door; which she jerkily opened; and then she grabbed his doublet on his chest again; and pulled him in; kissing him again, while trying to walk him backwards into the passage. Her greedy hot lips on his and the deft small hands were making his head spin; and it took him a few seconds to gather enough wits - and do her bidding.

* * *

The first light of dawn was crawling up the wall of the bedchamber; and he was nodding off, when a warm small hand gingerly brushed at his hip - again. Thorin burst into laughter.

"Calm yourself, woman," he feigned a grumble, and heard a small giggle. He smiled without opening his eyes. "Haven't you had enough?"

She shifted, and the firm round stomach pressed into his bare side. "It's the parturiency. All hungers are heightened. And..." She rubbed her nose to his shoulder. "And I've been starved for many moons."

He peeked at her with one eye. She was grinning from ear to ear, copper springs of her hair surrounding the face, like a ball of flame.

"How were you coping with your hungers through those moons?" he asked teasingly. And she clapped her hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture, the corners of her lips twitching in a hidden smile.

"I wasn't! It was a horrible torment!" She giggled again, and looked at him with brilliant eyes. "I had to leave a room every time you entered! I had trouble sleeping; and simply seeing you would make me flustered beyond capacity to perform my daily duties. I had fantasies, day dreams even. They were turning bizarre, I have to say."

"Oh?" He cupped the back of her head and led her to his lips. After a few minutes of languished kisses, he smiled and asked, "What bizarre fantasies did my Queen have?"

"One time I almost feigned a stumble, so you would support me and I could… sniff you," she whispered in a conspiratory voice, and chewed her lip, clear bashment written on her face. "My body's desires were truly overpowering my reason. I knew you wouldn't accept me, but so many times I was close to coming to you and… begging." She blushed, and her nose twitched. "It was surely some sort of madness of an expectant mother, but my lust was utterly torturous."

She couldn't know it, but after thinking he had been thrown aside for the sake of a younger lover, her embarrassed mumbling was a wonderful salve to his bruised male ego.

"I probably would have accepted you," he made a sudden admission.

"You would?!" Her eyebrows jumped up in disbelief. "You've always looked at me with so much animosity."

"And you didn't seem to even notice me. I reckon, we both saw what we expected to see," he offered an explanation. She gave it a thought, leaned in, and quickly kissed his lips. She then looked at him, with sudden gravity.

"I'm very grateful for your forgiveness, Thorin," she said. "A rare Dwarf would look past the prescriptions of the tradition when the questions of honour and pride were concerned."

"You have," he reminded her softly. "You chose the lives of forty men over your honour and your marriage." There was no reproach in his voice; he felt none.

"I'm their Queen. I had to," she answered simply, and he nodded. "And I gave my word. It was too late to renegade. But it was hard," she added in a small voice. "Especially with the babe. When I realized I was depriving our child of his or her father, and you - of knowing them..." She sighed.

"He shouldn't have put you in this position," Thorin grumbled; and she lay down, her cheek pressing to his chest.

"I think… I would have done the same if it were you in those Mountains," she whispered. "Traditions and laws are in the blood and the bone of the Khazad, but when it comes to those we love… Wouldn't you waver? Wouldn't you do everything possible, however unlawful it were, to bring your kin back?"

"Perhaps," he agreed, unwilling to even try to imagine himself in such desperate position. The war was over; he had his family and his Kingdom. He'd rather enjoy the peace and happiness than dwell on hypotheticals.

He looked and saw that she was asleep, her left hand curled in a small fist on his chest. He pulled the covers over them, pressed a light kiss to the top of her head, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Thorin woke up the next morning; and emitted a surprised chuckle since a pair of unblinking amber coloured eyes were staring at him.

"What are you doing, my treasure?" he asked; and she smiled to him widely.

"I'm ogling you," she answered in a pleased tone. She had her fists stacked on his chest, and her chin was resting on the top one. She lay half on her side, accommodating her stomach.

"Is that an appropriate behaviour towards a King, I wonder?" he asked impishly, and patted a buttock under the covers.

"How would I know?" she giggled. "Kings interest me not. I'm ogling my husband."

He lunged, and grabbed her, and rolled her underneath him, mindful of her roundness.

"Aye, that you are," he murmured, and kissed her greedily.

 **THE END**


End file.
